


Road Trip - Phantasm

by Sekiei



Series: Road Trip - Interludes [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, canon up to gralea, post main story alternative ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-12 01:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9050134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sekiei/pseuds/Sekiei
Summary: Ignis and Gladiolus in a bed. In peace times with Noctis on the throne. Fluff, love and smut.(N.B. Basically an alternative ending that considers the game canon until Gralea but erases chapter 14 and offers a much more cheerful alternative. I don't think there are any major spoilers in there as long as you know what happened in Altissia, but if you want to be safe maybe read it only once you've finished the main story)





	1. Chapter 1

Welcome to my ~~denial~~ sanity bubble. Feel free to skip my pre-fic ranting unless it amuses you. The only thing you really need to know is that in this alternative timeline Ardyn wasn't nearly as badass and they managed to defeat him in Gralea, came back to Lucis, got Noctis crowned King and started rebuilding. 

Anyway, surprise, surprise, I’m not coping well with the game ending. Thus, I give you the freely unlockable alternative, happy, all ended fairly well (more or less) ending:

  * None of that time-related horrible bullshit and everything else that followed (you know what I'm talking about). And yeah, okay… it was good character-driven storytelling in a way, and gut-wrenchingly cruel because for most of the game you get no foreshadowing of what will happen at all, and I recognise it because I was pretty much sobbing by the end of it. But I just need an alternative timeline. The boys didn’t deserve that, I didn’t deserve that, you reading this most certainly did not deserve that. Let’s get some happiness back. >______<
  * Also no Ignis suddenly having a mullet and looking like a cheap Elvis impersonator. Nope. No. Not in a million years. What the hell were they even thinking…
  * Gladiolus looked freaking hot in a ponytail, I’ll admit, but then I raise you in this fic the idea of something else to do with his hair that might be even hotter (in my humble opinion). 



So anyway, don’t go in there expecting canon. Go in there expecting porn. And fluff. Lots of it. This is about as disgustingly adorable as I can manage. I was listening to Leonard Cohen’s ‘Dance me to the end of love’ the whole time I was writing this. It’s sappy, literally dripping with sap. It had to in order to balance what the actual game did to me. You’ve been warned. That’s about it. Thanks for reading. 

Comments welcome and appreciated as always! ^ ^ Happy Holidays to all. ^__^

 

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The drizzle of moonlight from the tall windows allowed Gladiolus to walk to the bed without second guessing his steps. Ignis used to close the blinds at night when he lived in the business district, but he didn’t bother anymore. They were high enough in the palace that privacy wasn’t a concern. And the light… well, unfortunately, light had ceased to be a problem. Gladiolus didn’t mind. The room didn’t give onto the city but was overlooking the ramparts and the wilderness beyond. Pollution from electrical lighting was minimal. The silver tones of the night sky reminded him of countless nights spent outside the walls. It was nostalgic and familiar. As the Shield of the reigning monarch his responsibilities had increased and he rarely had the opportunity to go back to his roots any more. He longed for a few nights camping alone, skilfully avoiding to perturb the droves of monsters surrounding him, and yet welcoming the fight if it should happen. Sometimes it felt as if his youth was already behind him and he had to remind himself he was barely in his twenties. If he wasn’t allowed to leave Noctis’ side, he would just have to pester him into coming along. The young king had been fulfilling his role with dedication and gravitas since the fall of the Empire, but those who knew him could see how exhausting he was finding it all. Another few weeks and he would probably be begging him to go for a hunt in the plains. He just had to give it some time.

Gladiolus turned on the light on the bedside table. Ignis was laying on his side, his back to him. He hadn’t moved since he’d entered the room, his breathing settled, peaceful. Gladiolus sat on the edge of the mattress to watch him, his eyes hovering the curve of a bare shoulder, down to the nape of the neck, the stray locks there, soft and tousled. The etched lines of the lean but solid muscles in his back had been getting more pronounced since they’d started sparing again. Ignis had been making progress, surprising him a couple of times with well-timed blocks and rolls. His awareness of his surroundings had definitely improved. And while they both knew that he would never get back his past proficiency, knowing he would not be an easy target despite his blindness was reassuring.  
Gladiolus took off his jacket and shoes, leaving them on the floor by the bed. He hesitated, torn between the desire to put his hands on the offered skin and watching Ignis sleep a while longer. It’d taken weeks for him to get proper rest when they got back to Insomnia. Every time, Gladiolus had opened his eyes, he’d found Ignis staring unseeingly in the night, breathing too slow and controlled, with the same answer each time he’d asked: ‘I heard something.’ For a while, he’d worried that his presence was disturbing his sleep, but his offer to step away had been unequivocally shut down. It took a lot of skilful cajoling and cautious prodding then for Ignis to grudgingly admit that he was actually sleeping better when Gladiolus was close. But they had worked with that. Ignis had taken to exerting himself on a daily basis, cruelly, mercilessly, until sleep couldn’t be debated or avoided. And Gladiolus had made sure to be there, to watch over him, but also to wake him if he got restless, to make sure his return to consciousness was no longer synonymous with a pang fear and panic outside rational thoughts. It’d been slow progress, but it’d worked. And during that time, Gladiolus had learnt how much he loved gently, intimately, pulling Ignis out of the arms of sleep and into his. If he was honest, he’d thought about little else making his way back to the palace that night.

He stretched out onto the bed, his hand slipping under the cover to splay over Ignis’ chest, holding him close. He kissed his shoulder, moving along the edge of relaxed muscles to the skin of his neck, focusing there with the ghost of teeth soon soothed by his tongue. He felt Ignis tautening into semi-awareness, and moved just enough to let him roll on his back. This was easy, nearly instinctive for them by that point. Gladiolus’ hand was already curving around Ignis’ ear, holding him still and kissing him - not too chastely - before he truly woke up. He waited until he could feel hands on his face, fingers burying into his hair to let up. Icy eyes fluttered at him, struggling to stay open, a task made even more difficult by the fact that they had nothing to focus on. But there was a soft smile on Ignis’ lips.

‘Hey,’ he said, his voice rough with sleep, a bare whisper in the silent room.  
‘Hey,’ Gladiolus replied, before kissing him again, because he could.

In those moments, Ignis was so pliant, yielding, his reactions at odds with his usual assertiveness. And as much as Gladiolus loved Ignis’ aloofness, this was unique and invaluable. This was a side of Ignis that was his alone. The world would never know Ignis could look like this, half-asleep, making little sense, yet tender and content.  
Ignis waking up in the morning, or if risen in alarm, always demonstrated a seamless transition between slumber and full blazing consciousness. But if Gladiolus was careful, when coaxing him out of sleep like so, he could keep him soft and malleable for a while, basking in the sight of an Ignis with no guard or composure.  
Tonight was a good night. Ignis stayed relaxed under him, tilting his head so he could resume kissing his neck, let his lips bruise the skin over his collarbone. Hands were in Gladiolus’ hair, fingers threading through the locks, aimless, playful.

‘It’s getting long,’ Ignis said pensively after a while.

Gladiolus hummed, inclining his head to the side to let the locks dangle, to allow gentle fingers to twirl around them.

‘I was going to cut it, but then Prompto said I should let it grow and braid it. I thought maybe he was onto something. Honestly, I haven’t made up my mind yet.’  
‘Braids, eh?’

Ignis’ hands stroked his scalp, fingertips massaging invisible braided lines, imagining what it would feel like.

‘I think it’d suit you.’  
‘Might give it a try then.’

Ignis stilled, frowning.

‘What?’  
‘I just realised… What are you doing here? I thought you were on patrol exercises with the Accordo delegation for the next couple of days.’  
‘Been there, done that. I had to cut it short because they’re not nearly as ready as what I’d been told.’  
‘That bad?’  
‘Don’t get me wrong my men would probably be out of their element if they found themselves suddenly dropped on a boat, but this was supposed to be their elite force. We went two miles out of the city walls and they managed to piss off a herd of garulas. Ended up with a few bruised ribs and a broken leg, then sabertusks got drawn in by the scent of blood. It was a fucking mess. We got everything back under control but by that point I decided that it would do them more good to have a forced march back to the barracks carrying the wounded.’  
‘And here we thought looking after Noct was hard.’  
‘Yeah, he was pretty easy to take care of all things considered.’  
‘We probably shouldn’t tell him.’  
‘Never. I’m going to insist he was the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever had to babysit until I have both feet in the grave.’  
‘Yes, let’s keep His Majesty humble.’  
‘Exactly.’  
‘You’re complaining, but you did enjoy your afternoon, didn’t you?’  
‘Hmm. It was messy but pretty entertaining. You’re the one who’s going to have the hard job really.’  
‘Am I?’  
‘Well, you’re going to have to tell Accordo’s ambassador that their elite troops are being sent back to basic training. If possible without offending him. Best of luck.’  
‘Making me hate you when you’re trying to get into my bed doesn’t strike me as smart.’  
‘Seems to me like I’m well into your bed already.’  
‘Don’t give me a reason to kick you out of it.’  
‘And this is where I shut up.’  
‘Good call.’

Ignis’ hands were on his arms, on his shoulders down to his chest. The move was focused, purposeful, different from their previous interactions. It only took a few seconds before fingers zeroed on the fresh cut just under the hollow of his throat, gently prodding it.

‘How do you always know?’  
‘Your skin gets hotter, also there’s retained tension in your muscles. Here.’

Gladiolus couldn’t stop a low moan as Ignis’ fingertips dig at the junction between shoulder and neck, massaging the knot there, sapping him of his strength.

‘See.’  
‘Damn. I can’t tell if that feels good or if it hurts.’  
‘The wound doesn’t seem too deep.’  
‘It’s just a scratch. Didn’t even need stitches.’  
‘Tell me if it ends up scaring.’  
‘You got it.’

They hadn’t really talked about it, but Gladiolus understood enough in those quiet moments where Ignis was laying next to him and followed his scars, on his face, on his chest, on his back, checking he still knew where they were, that he remembered right, that he hadn’t forgotten anything. The fear of losing the clarity of the images in his mind, of not being able to trust his memories, was evident. But he also wanted to know how things changed, to make sure he wasn’t left behind, stuck in a vanishing world gradually and inexorably diverging from reality. Time was helping. The more comfortable Ignis was getting with the challenges he faced, the better he coped. His positivity about braiding his hair had been surprising but encouraging.  
Gladiolus carried on, trying to not let the mood darken.

‘So anyway, I dragged all their asses back to the garrison quarters. And then I thought you wouldn’t mind a late night since it turns out we’re both off duty tomorrow after all.’  
‘“A late night”? Is that what we’re calling it now?’  
‘It sounded better than “I didn’t think you’d mind us fucking each other’s brains out” but I can go with that, if you’d rather.’  
‘Your talent for avoiding any middle ground is astounding as always.’  
‘And there we are. You’re awake.’  
‘Of course, I’m awake. What are you…’  
‘I mean, truly awake. I can tell by how sarcastic you get.’  
‘Riveting.’  
‘Case in point. But that’s just as well, I can’t have you half-asleep for what I have in mind.’  
‘Is that so?’

Gladiolus simply hummed in answer, pushing stray locks out of Ignis’ eyes. Even unfocused they were still breathtaking, but they now also gave Ignis a perpetual contemplative air, as if he was faraway, lost in thought. Gladiolus missed the sharp, sometimes almost uncomfortable, weight those eyes used to have.

‘You’re going to have to tell me if you want us to get anywhere.’  
‘Smartass. But fine. So, I got in the shower at the barracks and I was thinking about you.’

Ignis smiled, his hands drifting down Gladiolus’ chest, following the edges of pectorals, circling abdominal muscles, slowly, steadily, in a caress that didn’t quite reach his suggestive goal, when it encountered leather pants. Fingertips dipped under the belt, teasing.

‘You were touching yourself, weren’t you?’  
‘As I said, I was thinking about you.’ Gladiolus repeated. ‘Stop looking so smug. Yes, I’ve got it bad. Don’t even try and pretend you’re any better.’  
‘I’m not.’

The words were but a bare whisper, but even if Gladiolus had missed them, the meaning of the careful, gentle kiss that followed was clear. Despite years of shared history, there were words they had never said. At first, because it would have been a burden. In the face of the war, in the struggle to protect Noctis, none of it could have mattered, or even been acknowledged. But now, even as the world had changed around them, even as peace was restored, the words still seemed forbidden. They both knew what they meant to each other. Yet, they shared an uncharacteristic - almost superstitious - uneasiness at the idea of breaking that long-standing rule. After having gone through so much hardships, challenging fate - even when they both new that fear was ridiculous - was out of the question. So they found ways around it, their meaning always implied yet unambiguous for the only person to who it mattered.

‘Good,’ Gladiolus replied with a soft smile. ‘So, then I realised that it wasn’t actually that late, and that I could come here instead.’  
‘Instead? How gullible do you think I am?’  
‘Okay, fine. I could come here after. I had to cross half the city and it would have been uncomfortable not to follow through.’  
‘So, you started without me…’  
‘Sorry,’ Gladiolus said, not sounding sorry at all. ‘But as I pointed out, I was thinking about you the whole time.’  
‘And what was I doing in that fantasy of yours?’  
‘Well, to start with…’

Gladiolus’ fingers traced Ignis’ lips, encouraging them to open. The gentle bite that followed made it clear he didn’t have to elaborate.

‘But then, since I decided to come here, I moved on.’  
’Stop stalling.’  
‘So goddamn impatient. Anyway, I was in the shower, so I thought I might as well give us a head start.’  
‘You’re going to have to be more explicit than that. ’  
‘It’s not like you to be so obtuse.’  
‘Maybe I just want to hear you say it.’  
‘Fine.’ Gladiolus said, leaning in to add against Ignis’ lips, just shy of a kiss, ‘would you please shut up and fuck me already?’  
‘Not a chance. But I can make good on half that request.’  
‘Deal. Keep talking.’  
‘Oh I will. If you behave,’ Ignis said.

There was a sultry edge to his smile that hit Gladiolus low and deep in the gut, gushing warmth like a welcomed wound. As usual he was putty in Ignis’ hands, eagerly responding to every word, every touch before he’d even realised. Years together had done nothing to lessen Ignis’ mastery over him. If anything, he’d sharpened his skill set. Gladiolus didn’t stand a chance anymore, assuming he ever did.  
Deft fingers undid his belt and the first couple of buttons of his pants but went no further. Instead he got an impish slap on his ass.

‘Take them off, they’re in the way.’

They long had an understanding when it came to leather. Leather garments - usually Gladiolus’ - were just not suitable to be nimbly and lovingly removed in bed. Experience had taught them there was no point and often some danger in trying. As Ignis had put it after their last failed attempt: ‘I might love your ass in those pants, but that doesn’t make them my problem.’  
And so Gladiolus pushed himself up to deal with the ‘problem’. His pants were high quality, well-worn, supple leather. They were the epitome of comfort once they were on, ‘once’ being the keyword. Pulling them on in the steamy atmosphere of the garrison showers had been troublesome. Getting them off was moderately easier. Or at least it seemed to be until the recalcitrant piece of clothing clung to the skin of his calf as he stepped out of it, unbalancing him. He leant on the bedside table, unfortunately finding it much less sturdy than he’d expected. What followed was half a second of ungraceful flailing before - unable to regain his balance thanks to the leather snare pooled around his ankles - he crashed to the floor together with the traitorous piece of furniture.

‘What the… are you okay?’

Ignis was on his stomach, at the edge of the mattress, half reaching out to try and ascertain what had happened.

‘I’m fine. Your table isn’t though.’  
‘What did you do?’  
‘What makes you think I did anything?’  
‘I know my bedside table didn’t suddenly attack you.’  
‘I just leant on it a little.’  
‘I’ve always said those pants were a death-trap.’  
‘Uh, uh. No blaming the pants on that one. Who even makes furniture that can’t take a bit of weight?’  
‘A bit? Gladio, I’m not trying to be insensitive here, but let’s both agree your weight is ridiculous.’

Gladiolus just snorted in answer. Ignis had a point. It only took a bit more manoeuvring before he finally managed to get rid of his pants for good with a victorious cheer.

‘Ah ah, pants are off.’  
‘Not a second too late either. Come back up here.’

He moved to obey, pushing himself up from the floor before stopping short and letting out a low groan when his hand ended up covered with cold and slippery goo.

‘What now?’  
‘The drawer broke when the table fell. And the lube cracked open, it’s gone everywhere,’ Gladiolus explained, half grimacing, half sniggering. ‘This is such a mess.’

And that was it. That was the point when Ignis’ efforts to keep himself together came to an abrupt end. He dropped his face in his arms, hiding his face, shoulders shaking with uncontrollable laughter and Gladiolus had no choice but to join in. The whole thing was beyond ridiculous. Their first attempts at regaining some composure met with failure, as they spurred each other on through renewed bouts of what could only be described as giggling. Ignis eventually sat up, crossed-leg on the bed, naked, hair tousled in a bird nest so different from his usual immaculate look. He was rubbing tears out of his eyes. More than anything, that sight was what halted Gladiolus’ hilarity. Ignis didn’t notice right away, too preoccupied with his efforts to speak between sharp intakes of breath. If he’d thought it would help him calm down, it wasn’t working.

‘I’m sorry… but you were just being so suave just a couple of minutes ago, and now all this… how did this even happen… only with you, I swear…’

The realisation that he was now laughing alone was what finally stopped Ignis. His brow furrowed although the smile lingered on his lips.

‘You’re not sulking, are you?’ he asked, a wisp of concern in his tone.  
‘What? No. Of course, not.’

Gladiolus pushed himself up and finally made it back onto the bed, wiping his hand on the sheets.

‘I was just watching you. Have you got any idea how gorgeous you look when you’re laughing like that?’

Ignis’ laughter died out at that. His face went through a complicated and unusual wave of ill-defined emotions before settling on a slight frown. He aimed a mock backhand slap at Gladiolus’ chest.

‘You’re not supposed to say that kind of thing with a straight face.’  
‘I just did,’ Gladiolus retorted, catching Ignis’ hand out of the air. ‘Want me to tell you how cute you look when you’re embarrassed as well?’  
‘Hush. I’m most definitely not “cute”.’  
‘It’s a matter of opinion.’

He brought Ignis’ hand to his lips, kissing the palm before laying it against his cheek. Fingertips absently stroked the edge of his beard.

‘So how about my suaveness now? Any complaints?’  
‘Well saved.’

Ignis was smiling. His hand slipped from Gladiolus’ cheek to the back of his neck, pulling him forward, until he was on his knees in front of him, until it took but a tilt of the head to kiss him. Deeply. Filthily. Rough but knowing. They had no qualms using every dirty trick they’d learnt would make the other react, shudder, give up the chance to breathe to let out a hoarse expletive, only half heard before being swallowed by an inquisitive tongue. Yet, their exchange was more akin to a choreographed dance than a fight. They knew how to give and take, how to yield and receive, how to surprise and surrender. By the time they came apart, the unevenness of their breathing had nothing to do with laughter anymore. And the mood had taken a very different turn. Ignis had propped himself up, leaving his hand there, a burning brand on Gladiolus’ inner thigh. He looked sinful, mouth half opened, satisfied smile in place, just far enough that Gladiolus could take a good look, could sense lust bloom in his mind, in his groin. Deep-seated. Familiar and intoxicating.

He bent down and grabbed the half-emptied bottle of lubricant from the floor, screwing the pump dispenser back on, before pressing it in Ignis’ hand.

‘How do you want me?’

Ignis didn’t hesitate, as bold in bed as he always was, sure of his own desires, always content to direct and guide, always intuitively knowing what Gladiolus would wish for even when he was unaware of it. He pushed the pillows off the bed, patting the centre of the mattress.

‘Kneel here for me.’

So Gladiolus did. Sitting on his heels, his knees as far apart as he could while still maintaining his balance. The wall was close enough that he could lean forward and brace himself if he needed to. But for now, he stood straight, hands on his thighs, waiting.  
Being so exposed, so vulnerable was against everything he’s been taught, against all the training he had ever received. It was the antithesis of who he was. And yet, once he pushed the worried calls of his fighting instincts aside, he was left with a liberating calm he couldn’t explain but whose origin he’d always known. He had never imagined he would want to relinquish control like so, until he’d started doing it, unconsciously, impulsively. Responding to a need he hadn’t known he harboured, a burning necessity to yield to just one man. Only for Ignis.  
Ignis had always liked to watch him. He used to guide him to where he wanted him, and then take a step back, and just look, immobile, out of reach. Just long enough for impatience and desire to boil inside Gladiolus, to make him grit his teeth, to think about begging, but never so long that he actually felt uncomfortable. He remembered the acuity of that gaze, the possessiveness of it. He had never known the desire to surrender until he’d felt those eyes on him.

It had taken a little while for them to overcome Ignis’ infirmity, to discover new ways to enjoy their familiar dynamics and rhythm. But what they had now… Gladiolus thought it might be even better. He closed his eyes and he waited. He held his breath at the first touch of fingertips on his back. The hands were not caressing as much as exploring, light at first. Fleeting. Then they turned firmer, thorough. Possessive. Exploring muscles, the grain of his skin, the meandering path of scars, the sweat pearling from the effort he made to hold still. Slowly. And everywhere. Half worshipping, half drawing a mental sculpture of his naked, offered body. Hands went up his spine, to his neck, and Gladiolus yielded. He bowed his head to slightest touch of the fingers, willing, surrendering. And there were lips on his shoulder, a smile that turned into a kiss. A reward for his patience. Ignis knew how much it took out of him to offer himself like this, to let Ignis take his time, feeling him, sketching him with nothing but fingertips. The hands were moving again, but the lips were still there, worrying at the muscle, bruising it. He could feel the touch of a welcome hardness against his back. Fuck. He wanted more. His jaw tensed, his fingers curled into his skin.  
And then there was a quiet shush in his ear, a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. As always. Before it became too much, before he had to ask. Ignis knew.  
He missed the warmth against him as Ignis groped among the sheets to find the lube. But a few words brought it back.

‘You’re okay?’  
‘Hmm. I’m good.’  
‘Good. Lift up.’

His thighs tensed as he raised himself a bit more above the bed, back straight, knees apart. Sustaining that position might have been uncomfortable for most, but there were definite advantages to the intense physical training he had subjected himself to for years. Soft hair brushed against his back, a hand closed on his hip, holding him steady. He covered it with his own in quiet ascent. It was easy at first. Ignis took his time and Gladiolus himself had done what he could in the shower. It was easy, and it was good, although not quite enough. Even as minutes passed, as the touch grew, pushing his body further, demanding, unyielding, it was still too scant. His need was growing faster. His own impatience got the better of him. His free hand slipped from his thigh, onto the bed, grabbing the sheets as he bowed his back, bearing down on Ignis fingers, meeting him. He bit his lips but couldn’t help the moan that escaped him, pleasure mixed with a fuzzy edge of pain. It was still good.  
Ignis’ hand tightened on his hip, fingertips stroking his skin, rhythmically, soothingly.

‘Easy there. Don’t rush.’  
‘Fuck, Iggy. I just… come on.’  
‘Not yet.’

Ignis wanted to be sure. And he understood, because he was no different each time their roles were reversed. But that didn’t make it any easier. His body was open now, he could feel it. It wasn’t protesting anymore. It just waited and wanted. It just… wanted more. Movement, and stretch, and warmth. Just a bit more. Or rather more, more, so much more. Right now, he’d have settled for anything more. He took a deep breath, trying to relax, to calm down, so Ignis could feel it and be satisfied. And finally, there was a touch on his shoulder, silently encouraging him to lean forward. He complied swiftly, lifting himself on his knees and bracing a hand against the wall for support.  
Gladiolus closed his eyes when Ignis pushed in, firmly and steadily. He sighed, a short uneven sigh of relief. That was it. That was what he’d wanted. There was something unique, somehow hallowed, about that first connection. It didn’t matter how many times, or in what mood, it happened. He was in awe of it. Of what it made him feel. Of what it meant.  
Ignis paused against him, so close, kissed his shoulder. His words were a husky whisper.

‘All right?’

Gladiolus let out a breathy chuckle.

‘What?’  
‘I’ve been thinking about nothing else for the past two hours, so yeah, I’m all right. Come on, don’t stop now.’  
‘I wasn’t planning on it.’

He could feel the smile against his skin. It was a promise. And he rather liked the sound of it. But not nearly as much as he liked the feel of it once Ignis made good on his word. Damn. He usually loved looking at Ignis, but being framed like so, only able to watch his own hand brace against the wall with each thrust, only able to feel what Ignis was giving, with no warning, no chance to prepare, was heady. He watched his fingers dig into the plaster, the muscles in his arm bunching up repeatedly. Over and over again. Until he couldn’t, until he had to close his eyes. The world narrowed down to a few simple sensations. The ruggedness of the wall under his fingertips, the firm grip of a hand on his hip, the galvanic, rhythmic, intimate strokes deep, so deep into him, and the cold emptiness surrounding his burning cock. It was uncomplicated and good. So good. But also not enough.

‘Gladio.’

He wanted to use his free hand so badly, just imagining it, imaging the relief and the pleasure made him light-headed. But he clenched his fingers, pushing them into the bunched muscles of his thigh. Not yet. Not yet. He wanted more of the same. He wanted this for now. He wanted to focus and feel, every details, every minute flare of his nerves. But slowly, like a rising tide he couldn’t escape no matter how much he ran, his need grew. More powerful. Not quite overwhelming yet, but stalking him relentlessly, menacingly.

‘Gladio.’

This time, fingers closed on his shoulder, squeezing gently, and he realised Ignis hadn’t just been saying his name like he so often did when lost in pleasure. There was intent behind the call.

‘Sorry. I was…’  
‘Give me your hand.’

How did he know… Had he felt how close Gladiolus was to give in? Or did he just want the extra connection? They hadn’t put it in words, but Gladiolus had noticed. Since Altissia, Ignis had started looking for his hand, almost every time, threading their fingers as a point of anchor. Was he replacing visual cues with a more grounded alternative? Or was it just coincidence?  
Gladiolus didn’t need to ask.

‘Sure.’

He offered his hand splayed open against his lower back. To an unknowing observer, the pose would have looked like a restraint, but the fingers that close around his were gentle, grateful. When Ignis started moving against him, in him, again, Gladiolus bit back a cry. Maybe there had been one more reason to the request.  
He could feel it, with each thrust, the pressure of their joined hands against his back, encouraging him to tilt his hips just so, letting him meet Ignis just a bit more squarely. It shouldn’t have mattered, it was but a fraction of angle, and yet… it was everything. He squeezed his eyes shut, bit his lips, but it didn’t stop the noise coming from his throat. The muscles in his arm were trembling. It wasn’t fatigue, but his control getting frayed by pleasure. Ignis was whispering, endearments and encouragements he couldn’t quite make out. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to understand what he said, to know what he meant. It was obvious in the short, ragged breaths, warm against his skin, the way his fingers tightened around his with each push of his hips. Gladiolus slowed his breathing, to buy time, to regain a modicum of control, to make this last. It worked for a while. Ignis wasn’t letting up and Gladiolus was following through every time. This was familiar to them, instinctive. Ignis’ pace picked up again. A sharp, traitorous spike of pleasure made Gladiolus’ vision blur, his eyes flutter, and finally his arm gave in without warning, muscles sapped of their strength as his awareness was overwhelmed. It only lasted for a fraction of second, just enough for him to stumble forward before he caught himself, managing to hold them both up in the end. Ignis’ fingers gave his a gentle squeeze. He’d slowed down, nearly to a stop, but not quite. Neither of them could have stilled at that point, their bodies responding to one another on instinct, from somewhere dark and feral that they had little control over.

’Sorry. I overdid it, didn’t I?’

Damn. Gladiolus was pretty sure he could have come just listening to that voice, low and warm. But he didn’t want an apology.

’You didn’t. It was good. Just, let me…’

Ignis released his hold on him, with a quiet swear as they separated. Gladiolus grimaced at unwanted emptiness, but it was only a momentary drawback. He shuffled forward, closer to the wall, until he could lean his forearm against it, and his forehead against his arm. It was a solid, sturdy stance. He could take anything Ignis wanted to give like that. He spread his knees apart a bit more, offered his free hand again and just said:

‘Come on.’

A hand caressed his back, from his shoulders down to his buttocks, the back of his thighs. It was light, swift, assessing, and it made him shudder. Ignis shushed him, soothing. Lips were on his neck, fingers threaded in his, and Gladiolus welcomed fullness anew, restored communion. Ignis whispered his name as he entered him, a couple of syllables filled with awe and gratitude that set his desire ablaze.

‘Don’t hold back,’ he said.

He didn’t have to ask twice. It took a handful of seconds for Ignis to find it again, that perfect stroke that evenly brushed against skin and nerves, just shy of being more than he could handle. He couldn’t keep his eyes open at the crescendo of sensations washed over him. Nothing mattered but the relentless push of Ignis body in his as he dipped his hips more and hold himself firm against him, creating friction and convergence. Waves of pleasure broke inside him, teasing, licking at his core and promising to overwhelm him. Groans he was barely aware of got wrenched from him. Ignis’ fingers were tightening around his. They both could feel the unabating tide approaching. Dark, looming. Gladiolus wanted to surrender. Yet, he wasn’t prepared when a hand closed around his cock. Ignis was whispering, encouraging, demanding him to give in, to let go. The sensory overload that followed left him no choice. His orgasm crashed over him, a burst of voltaic pleasure taking over his senses, swallowing him. Sparks burst from those intimate points of contact around him, in him, his body spellbound and weak as his mind soared, embraced by a dark and warm abyss that denied time entry. He came back to himself, slowly, breathing rough. The hand gently released his spent flesh but the repeated strokes that kept him open didn’t let up quite yet. Ignis wasn’t done. And Gladiolus closed his eyes, forcing the heaving in his chest to calm down, so he could hear, he could focus on the feverish touch of Ignis’ forehead against his shoulder, the soft pleas he panted against his skin. Just a bit more. Gladio. Just… let me. Fuck. So good. You’re so good.  
Eyes still closed, Gladiolus let him take what he needed. With his desire now sated, being used like so, feeling Ignis tense and tremble against him and just waiting him out, was alluring, erotic in a way that felt forbidden yet all the more precious for it, wrong in all the best ways. He had no energy left to respond to those feelings, but it didn’t stop him from relishing them. It didn’t last long. Soon he felt Ignis’ rhythm falter, the strangled cry from his lip, fingers digging into his hips to pull him closer. Closer. Ignis pushed into him. Again. Again. And once more. And it was over, a relieved realisation for their exhausted bodies, yet forever bittersweet.  
They didn’t move for a moment, Ignis catching his breath. His fingers tightened around Gladiolus before he finally let go of his hand and pulled out of him. He kissed Gladiolus’ shoulder, gently, chastely before releasing him.

‘Thank you.’  
‘My pleasure. And I mean that quite literally.’

Gladiolus grimaced at how rough his voice sounded. He might have been louder than he’d realised. He pushed himself away from the wall, his thighs protesting at the move. Ignis had collapsed down on the mattress, his chest still moving fast, hair clumped with sweat on his forehead, skin flushed. He looked as exhausted as Gladiolus felt. It was a pretty sight, one that thankfully he could keep looking at laying down. He waited for a while, loose and content, until his heart beat slowed down, until he could barely hear Ignis’ breathing anymore, until the night chill made hairs raise on his skin. Sleep towered over him, watching, waiting for his guard to go down. But he wouldn’t capitulate quite yet.

‘Iggy.’  
‘Hmm?’  
‘Come here.’  
‘Back at you.’  
‘Even if I could find the energy to move, someone told me my weight is ridiculous. Wouldn’t want to crush you.’  
‘Never stopped you before,’ Ignis muttered.

Gladiolus sniggered at that.

’Touché,’ he conceded, before opening his arm out in invitation and patting Ignis on the shoulder. ‘Come here. Please.’

Ignis sighed, but rolled over on his stomach. It took only a bit of shuffling from there for him to end up right were Gladiolus’d wanted him. Close. Warm. Head on his shoulder, a leg over his.

‘There. Happy?’  
‘Yes,’ Gladiolus simply answered.

He’d learnt long ago that blunt honesty was the best defence against Ignis’ sarcastic repartees. Fingers drummed on his chest for a few seconds, before Ignis gave up.

‘Fine. You win. This is actually pretty nice.’  
‘Glad you approve.’  
‘You really can’t move, can you?’ Ignis asked, the amusement in his voice spelling trouble.  
‘No idea. I’m not going to try. Not for the foreseeable future anyway.’  
‘Hmm. Does that mean I get to ride you later?’

Fuck. The words alighted lust anew in his exhausted mind, but despite a valiant effort, his body was far too spent to follow through. Ignis’ fingers walked across his chest, playfully flicking a nipple. Gladiolus snatched his hand with a low growl.

‘Damn it. You’re a menace.’

The soft, tired laugh that answered him made it obvious that for all his teasing Ignis was as worn out as he was. But that didn’t mean he’d let up easily.

‘Was that a “yes”?’  
‘Have I ever turned you down?’  
‘Not that I can recall.’  
‘There’s your answer then,’ Gladiolus said, bringing Ignis’ hand to his lips as he always did. ‘But now that you’ve brought it up, you better make good on it.’

Ignis stretched with a sigh before shifting more of his weight on him in an effort to get comfortable.

‘Remind me when I wake up.’  
‘As if you'd forget.’  
‘Again, maybe I just want to hear you say it.’  
‘Don’t worry. No chance in hell I’m going to let you off now.’  
‘Good.’

Gladiolus kept sleep at bay for a while longer. He didn’t want to surrender. Not yet. Not when he felt Ignis’s body relax, slowly getting heavier against him. His breathing was peaceful, even. Gladiolus wanted to listen, to feel and bask in that quietude. He didn’t last nearly as long as he’d wanted, but he knew Ignis was safely asleep by the time he allowed himself to drift off.

Light flooded the room when he woke up, warm and golden, a testimony to the late hour. A pang of alarm seized him before he remembered he had nowhere to be that day, nowhere but here. Ignis was still and relaxed against him, but his eyes were half-opened. He wasn’t asleep but claiming he was awake might have been a stretch.

‘Morning,’ Gladiolus said softly.

Ignis didn’t answer right away. He frowned, displeased, as if the very concept of ‘morning’ offended him. But then, he shifted and his hand was on Gladiolus cheek. He kissed him, gently, unhurriedly. Gladiolus had no complaint. They let time slide by, trading chaste, lazy kisses and careful caresses. This was what peace felt like, Gladiolus thought. His awakening lust wanted to remind Ignis of his promise, but he didn’t want to interrupt the moment. Not quite yet.  
The choice was taken away from him when a knock resonated at the door. Ignis stilled. Gladiolus frowned.

‘You said you were off.’  
‘I am. But I know that step. It’s Noctis.’  
‘What do we do?’

The innocent smile Ignis sent him made Gladiolus reach out in alarm, but it was too late.

‘Come in,’ Ignis said.

The door swung opened and Noctis stepped into the room, eyes on the papers he was carrying.

‘Ignis, Altissia is organising a carnival to celebrate the renovations and…’

Words died on the King’s lips at the sight in front of him. Ignis was laying on the bed, covers bunched around his waist, an arm over his head, hair in disarray, his neck and chest marred with blushing marks. The floor was littered with pillows, clothes, and what looked like a gutted bedside table.

And then there was Gladiolus.

Gladiolus who should not have been there. And yet, who most definitely was. Here. In front of him. Gloriously naked. He was hovering over Ignis, supporting himself on an elbow, his other hand reaching for Ignis’ mouth in a now obviously futile effort to silence him. The scene lasted for a fraction of second before Gladiolus sat up, bunching up the sheets around him to hide his bare ass from the royal eyes. Finally covered, he gave his King a mocked salute and an apologetic ‘what-can-you-do’ shrug. At least, he had the decency of looking mildly embarrassed. Ignis had no such concerns.

‘What’s the emergency, Noct?’ he asked.

He hadn’t moved, showing no intention of getting up without a good reason.

‘I… It… I…’ The king stammered. ‘I think it can wait…’  
‘Okay, then. See you tomorrow,’ Ignis said, before turning to Gladiolus, ‘so, where were we?’

Noctis was still staring, frozen on the spot. Gladiolus, taking pity on him, gave him a little wave and a wink that finally spurred the young king into action. He ran out of the room as if he had a hundred sabertusks on his heels. The door hadn’t fully closed that Gladiolus let himself fall back down near Ignis. They stayed silent for a few difficult seconds, but soon gave up and started laughing.

‘I can’t believe you just did that.’  
‘You’re the one who wanted to tell him.’  
‘Yes, “tell him”. As in, using words.’  
‘Less room for misunderstanding this way. Besides, I also wanted to teach him a lesson.’  
‘A lesson? About what?’  
‘His Majesty has gotten into some bad habits acceding to the throne in a time of conflict. He seems to struggle to understand that while we will still conduct our duty with dedication and respect, the return of the peace means the members of his house are allowed some private time and liberties.’  
‘Yeah, I can’t see him messing with your days off after that little experience. Not unless Lucis is going down in flames.’  
‘You’re probably safe too. And you’re welcome.’  
‘You know, he’s going to have questions.’  
‘I’m sure he will and they’re all yours.’  
‘And why would that be?’  
‘Well, you’re the one who’s training with him first thing in the morning,’ Ignis pointed out, his smile too smug to be ignored.  
‘You bastard. You planned this.’  
‘“Planned” might be an overstatement. I didn’t know Noctis would turn up. But when he did, it was too good an opportunity to miss. And you both played your parts perfectly. It’s almost as if I have a gift for strategy or something.’  
‘Okay, smartass. I get it. You outplayed us both. Well done.’  
‘Thank you. Now, how about you start showing your appreciation in more demonstrative ways?’  
‘Haven’t had enough, have you?’  
‘Well… I mean I’d understand if you can’t keep up.’  
‘Is that right? I’ll show you about keeping up,’ Gladiolus threatened, rolling over so he could pin Ignis under him.  
‘Riling you up is so ridiculously easy. Please, never change.’  
‘Shut up.’  
‘Make me.’

So Gladiolus did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis ran to the only person who could understand his pain. Or could he?  
> I wasn't really planning on writing this, but the whole Noctis / Prompto interaction didn't want to leave me alone. I hope you enjoy it. As always, comments welcome and appreciated. ^ ^
> 
> (N.B. Don't read this expecting sudden Promptis. For some reason, I personally only see them as best, excellent, amazing friends. Great friendship is one of the most beautiful relationships you can have with someone and in my headcanon that's what they share. Sorry, if it's disappointing for some of you.)

*

Prompto winced at the loud bang that resonated in his kitchen when Noctis dropped his forehead on the table with a groan. Thankfully for him, his flat was sufficiently insulated that the Crownguards posted at the door didn’t hear it. Or so he assumed when none of them burst in to see who was maiming the King.

‘They were naked, Prompto.’  
‘I got that. You know, the first six times you said it.’  
‘In bed. Together.’  
‘About that… Didn’t Ignis give you the talk when you were like twelve or something?’  
‘Oh shut up.’  
‘No, no, I know he did. I remember. He told you there’d be a quiz and it took you like a month to realise it was a joke. You were cramming.’  
‘Yeah, well, I remember you helped me revise and you were pretty happy to delve into the details of pretty much everything he’d said.’  
‘I’ve always proudly recycled your princely education, that’s nothing new, mate.’

Prompto circled the table and firmly applied the icy can of soda he was holding to the neck of His Majesty Noctis Lucis Caelum, first of his name. Said monarch let out a rather undignified squeak before snatching the drink.

‘Asshole.’  
‘Whatever. I don’t care how sacred it is, I’m not having this conversation with your hair.’  
‘You can tell me anything, he said. I’ll listen, he said.’

Prompto sat on the table to Noctis’ left with a grandiose sweep of the hand that meant something in between ‘there, I’m listening’ and ‘as ordered, Your Obnoxious Majesty’. He leant in to stare at Noctis before poking his forehead with a grimace.

‘You’re going to need a bigger crown. You know, to hide that bruise.’  
‘You’re not funny,’ Noctis muttered, batting his hand away.  
‘Oh come on, I’m hilarious.’

They glared at each other in silence, Prompto not letting up until he saw the corner of Noctis’ mouth twitch.

‘Fine. I guess you’re a bit funny.’  
‘Why, thank you, Your Majesty. Such praise for little ol’ me. Such honour, I can’t quite…’  
‘Drop it,’ Noctis said, tone bordering on a growl.  
‘Temper, temper, as someone would say.’

This was both the right and the wrong move. Right because Noctis was all but conditioned to feel sheepish and mollified on hearing those words, wrong because it reminded him of why he’d crossed half the city to come and wake up Prompto from his Sunday nap.

‘Did you have to bring him up…’  
‘Mate. He’s literally the topic of conversation. Well, I suppose half the topic of conversation, but still…’  
‘Why aren’t you more bothered by all this?’  
‘Excellent question…’ Prompto replied, crossing his legs, before letting his tone drop a couple of octaves and pushing imaginary glasses back up his nose. ‘But rather let me ask you, why are you?’

That finally drew a chuckle from Noctis.

‘You’ve gotten better. That was spot on.’  
‘I aim to please. As long as you never ever ever tell him… ’

Noctis opened his mouth to answer, but froze and frowned instead.

‘Wait a minute,’ he said with the quickness of wit he always showed when he decided to apply himself. ‘You’re deflecting. Why are you deflecting?’  
‘What? What are you talking about?’

But the words lacked conviction and the way Prompto shied away from eye contact was telling. For as long as Noctis had known him, he’d been a terrible liar. The only reason his imperial origins had never come to light was because the topic had never been broached between them before getting to Gralea.

‘Prompto…’  
‘What?’  
‘You knew!’ Noctis blurted out. ‘That’s why you were not surprised when I told you. You already knew.’

Prompto grimaced but didn’t deny it.

‘It’s not like they told me or anything. I just… figured it out, I guess.’  
‘What? When? How?’  
‘Well, you remember when we left Insomnia before the attack, and…’  
‘Wait. You’re telling me it happened all the way back then? They’ve been together for that long?’

Prompto couldn’t have looked more sheepish if he’d tried. It was answer enough. Noctis facepalmed before letting out a groan. At that rate, he was really going to have a bruise to hide.

‘So it’d started even before that…’  
‘I think so. I’m not sure. As I said, it’s not like we’ve talked about it. I don’t think they even know that I know.’  
‘Okay, fine, I’ll bite. How did you find out?’

Prompto hesitated for a second before jumping from his perch on the table.

‘Give me a minute. It’ll be easier to show you.’

He disappeared into the living room. Noctis could hear him rummaging next door while muttering to himself as he always did. He couldn’t make the words except for a couple of triumphal cheers when he found what he was looking for. Prompto finally came back to the kitchen arms loaded with photo albums. He flicked through them quickly and efficiently, obviously knowing what he was looking for. He pulled out a series of pictures and laid them in front of Noctis.  
At first glance, the collection seemed rather eclectic: Noctis fishing in the Vesperpool, the Goldin Quay cat sitting prettily on a wooden post with the beach in the background, the Regalia after Cindy had given it that awesome monster skeleton makeover, a flock of newly hatched chicks at the Chocobo Post, Prompto jumping up and down on the slain Deadeye. That last one was a bit blurry because Noctis had taken it and his photography skills were not nearly as honed as his friend’s.

‘We had lots of time in the car, and I spent most of it examining all the pictures I took, trying to learn from them. I wanted to get better.’  
‘Yeah, you were already well into your photography back then.’  
‘I got a couple of shots of the three of you when you were not looking, and I realised that sometimes - in the good ones - I could tell what you were thinking better than when I looked at you.’

Prompto handed Noctis a picture of himself sitting on the steps of a caravan, glaring at the blank screen of his phone. There were streaks of mud on his neck and cheek.

‘You were particularly moody that day.’  
‘When was that?’  
‘I think after we found the Royal Tomb that’d been pillaged, the one that was missing its greatsword.’  
‘I remember. Thinking about the daemons having that sword made me feel sick.’  
‘Eh, we got it back.’  
‘We sure did. And what a pain that was…’  
‘Tell me about it. Anyway, and before you accuse me of deflecting again, I got a little obsessed at the time, watching over the three of you through pictures. It was silly but it gave me something to do, and I felt that maybe I had a purpose tagging along after all.’  
‘I told you before. You’re my friend, what other reason did you need?’  
‘Yeah, I get that. But it wasn’t that easy back then. We were going against the Empire. And I wasn’t in a good place.’  
‘When I think about it, we had lots of fun together… but they were such dark times too.’

They both fell silent for few moments, reminiscing in a companionable atmosphere.

‘Prompto…’  
‘Yup?’  
‘I don’t think I ever thanked you properly.’  
‘Thank me? For what?’  
‘For sticking around. I mean, I’m grateful to all of you guys. And I don’t want to belittle anything Ignis and Gladio have done, but I know they had a commission, they had a duty to Lucis, to my father, besides their friendship with me. But you… you didn’t have to come all the way. You could have decided at any point to stay behind, with Cindy, with Iris and Talcott. But you didn’t. You came through and through at every turn. Even when it meant going back to the Empire, even when you ended up kidnapped and roughed up. And after all that you still asked me if we were friends… and I didn’t know what to say. I should have said thank you. So there. Thank you. For being my friend. And for never bailing out.’

Noctis was staring at the dark knots in the wooden table. Some words were hard to find and even harder to say, but Prompto deserved all of them. He looked up when he didn’t get an answer, concern getting the better of his embarrassment.

‘Are you crying?’  
’I’m not,’ Prompto said, aggressively rubbing his eyes. ‘Also you didn’t have to say any of that. And next time, give me some warning before going all sentimental on me.’  
‘I’ll do my best.’  
‘Also, Noct.’  
‘What?’  
‘You’re an idiot. Of course, I stayed with you. That’s what friends do. I’m the one who’s supposed to have self-worth issues and struggle with the whole friendship thing. Don’t steal my jam.’  
’Sorry,’ Noctis replied with a wince.  
‘Damn right, you are. Now, how about we forget all this and go back to discussing how I found out our best friends were boning each other?’  
‘I never thought I’d say that, but yes. Please. By all means.’

Prompto leant in across the table to point at the pictures scattered in front of Noctis. His eyes were still bright, but his voice got steadier as he talked.

‘Taking pictures of people without them noticing you is actually quite difficult, so I started paying more attention to what was happening in the background of my shots. And then I got that lingering feeling that I was missing something. I didn’t know what it was, but the more I looked at those pictures, the more I was convinced there was something there to be discovered, even if I couldn’t put my finger on it.’

Noctis took another look at the pictures. He didn’t really get what Prompto meant, but then he had not spent nearly as long staring at them. Sure, if he paid attention to the background, he could see Ignis bandaging Gladio - well his arm since that was all that was visible - in the corner behind Deadeye’s corpse, the two of them standing together in the shop entrance staring at the new Regalia, Ignis watching Gladio as he kneeled in front of a baby chocobo half out of frame.

‘As I said, it wasn’t anything obvious. Just that tingling itch in my brain that said there was something going on. I kept on thinking about it for weeks. I thought I was imagining things. It drove me crazy. Until that one evening, when I took this picture…’

It was a photo of Ignis cooking, an open book in his hand, stirring what looked like a fish stew. But behind him, almost completely swallowed in darkness, Gladiolus was standing. He was relaxed, leaning with his shoulder against a tall boulder. The glow of the campfire was angled just right to illuminate his features while keeping his body in the shadows. He was looking at Ignis with a soft smile, absorbed and tender, that brightened up his eyes. It was an expression Noctis had never seen him wear.

‘I saw this and I knew. I mean, no offence or anything, I know he’s your Shield and you pretty much own every single fibre of his ridiculous muscles, but he’s never looked at you like that. He’s never looked at anyone like that for that matter.’  
‘Yeah, I can see that.’  
‘So I knew I had solved at least part of the puzzle. I knew he had it bad, but what I didn’t know was whether it was mutual. And obviously, I did the only thing I could do and I started stalking Iggy. Cautiously. Very cautiously.’  
‘You’re a brave man, my friend.’  
‘It was a nightmare. He’s unreadable. Even when he laughs you can’t tell what he’s truly thinking. You don’t even know whether he’s laughing at you or with you. And the glasses, the bloody glasses, they always caught the light and hid his expression.’  
‘So what did you do?’  
‘I just pieced it together. Little things, tiny hints but that were repetitive and consistent. Kind of like this, over and over again.’

This time, Prompto tapped the picture of Noctis fishing in the Vesperpool. To the right behind him, under the trees on the lake shore, Gladio and Ignis were watching his efforts. They didn’t look at each other, but Ignis had tilted his head into Gladiolus’ space as if listening to whispered words meant only for him. He had a small private smile that gave nothing away and yet looked out of place, too intimate for the setting.

‘After a while, I was pretty convinced of what was going on and also that it was a long standing thing. They were both too careful and too in synch for it to be a new development.’  
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’  
‘I dunno. I guess they were trying so hard not to show it, I felt it wasn’t my place to interfere. There were so many things going wrong around us at that time, it didn’t seem that important. And also…’

Prompto interrupted himself with a grimace. Noctis dip his head to catch his eyes, when he spoke it was soft and conciliate, like one would speak to a spooked child.

‘Also?’  
‘It’s not important.’  
‘Tell me.’

Prompto huffed a laugh, but he also felt a burst of admiration for his friend. Noctis had changed so much in the past few months. Even in conversations like this one, his words sometimes took on the weight of a tranquil command, the words of one born to lead and to be obeyed. The hurt and angry Prince was gradually giving way to a great King.

‘Right. Well, I just… Damn, this is hard.’  
‘Prompto, it’s okay. Just say it.’  
‘Well, I mean, back then… we had a good thing going, the four of us. We worked well together, we had a good time. And I thought - maybe it was selfish, I don’t know - that if Gladio and Ignis were an item, and with you being well, you…’  
‘Me?’  
‘The Crown Prince, the King, the Chosen one, the Gods’ favourite, the…’  
‘Okay, okay, I get it.’  
‘Right. So I guess I was worried I’d be left behind, alone or something. It’s not like it was that articulated. I told you before I wasn’t sure why you wanted me around, but I knew I didn’t want to be anywhere else. And I was just scared that at some point you’d realise I didn’t belong with you guys. So yeah, I guess part of why I didn’t say anything was because I didn’t want to upset the status quo.’

Noctis just rolled his eyes because he had no words - none that he hadn’t used many times before - to express how unfounded Prompto’s fears had been. Prompto stuck his tongue out in response.

‘I told you it was my jam.’  
‘You’re not thinking this anymore though, are you?’  
‘Hm. Not as much, no. After all, you said I could work on your illustrated biography, and surely you have to truly trust me to agree to that.’  
‘What? Wait. What? I thought that was a joke.’  
‘No, it wasn’t. Also no taksies backsies.’  
‘The Six have mercy on me…’

Prompto laughs at that, bright and happy.

‘You’ll thank me later.’  
‘Somehow I doubt that.’  
‘Noct, can I ask you something?’  
‘Sure. As long as it’s not for my biography or whatever…’  
‘Why does it bother you? Ignis and Gladio being together. I didn’t think you’d mind.’  
‘It doesn’t bother me. If anything I’m happy for them, they’re good for each other. ’  
‘But something does bother you.’

Noctis sighed, passing a hand in his hair and managing to get it to stick out at even odder angles, which was no small feat.

‘I just thought… I mean, I know they’re members of the Royal House. But they’re also my friends and that should mean something. I thought they’d talk to me about something like that. I can understand during the war, that maybe they didn’t think it was appropriate to bring it up, that it could have ended up being awkward, but now… Did they not want me to know?’  
‘You said Ignis told you to come in, just before you walked in on them. Sounds to me like they wanted you to know.’  
‘That’s not how you break news to your friends!’  
‘In any case, they wanted you to know, that’s pretty clear. Maybe they’ve delayed it until you adjusted to being King so you could focus on your responsibilities without distractions, or maybe they just couldn’t find the right moment for it.’  
‘They still could have talked to me, instead of well… this.’  
‘That’s a different issue all together. And I have to ask, Noct, did you piss Iggy off, by any chance?’  
‘What? No, I didn’t.’

But Prompto was staring at him and Noctis felt a chill creep up his spine together with a slow and dire realisation.

‘Oh.’  
‘I knew it.’  
‘Shit.’  
‘What did you do?’  
‘We had lunch yesterday. He told me he was off duty today like three times. I forgot.’  
‘And there you go. You brought it on yourself, mate.’  
‘I guess I kind of did.’  
‘Can I just say, our friends are beautiful bastards.’  
‘You’re enjoying my pain, aren’t you?’  
‘A little bit,’ Prompto admitted, grinning. ‘Your Most Revered and Illustrious Majesty.’  
‘You’re lucky I like you.’

Prompto knew this and he was still smiling when Noctis left a few minutes later to return to his never-ending duties. He had been scared to lose him when Noctis had finally gotten crowned. He’d reined in personal feelings and castigated himself for his selfishness. He’d reminded himself Lucis needed Noct more than he did. He had expected loneliness and distance.  
But his fears had been proven - once again - unfounded. King or not, Noctis still dropped by or called whenever he needed to talk. And for the first time, Prompto’s anxiety had let up enough for him to see it, to see how much more relax and happy his friend got after their conversations. Slowly, he was learning that Noctis needed him - had always needed him - as much as he did.

He took his time putting the photographs away. The albums were full of beautiful and bittersweet memories. Maybe he should print a copy of the picture that gave Gladiolus away and give it to him. Ignis would never be able to see it but if anyone could tell him about it in a way that would do it justice, it’d be Gladiolus.

Speaking of pictures, there was one more he was holding onto. Prompto wasn’t sure what to do with it. Luna was gone for what seemed to be a long and yet incredibly short time. So many thing had happened since then, but it’d really only been a few months. And maybe it was too soon… He sat down on his couch to stare at the framed photograph on the coffee table. It was a large print he’d taken of Noctis’ coronation ceremony. The new king was sitting on the throne for the first time, surveying the room at his feet. Officers were standing on the steps of the stairs, Gladiolus and Ignis were closest to him, dashingly handsome in their dress uniforms. But all this wasn’t why he’d framed that particular picture among all the ones he’d taken that day.  
It was the second time an Amicitia had given themselves away through his lens. At the bottom of the stairs, half-hidden behind a heavy crimson curtain, Iris was watching the scene, or rather its main actor. The look on her face was eerily familiar.  
Prompto decided to wait a bit longer, but soon… soon he’d give that picture to his oblivious friend and let him decide what to do about it.

 

*

 

Noctis came back to his office and sat at the desk with a heavy sigh. He didn’t remember his father ever doing that much paperwork. Granted he’d been mostly running around the palace trying to escape Gladiolus’ watchful eyes, so maybe he just hadn’t noticed.  
But paperwork could wait. There was something he had to do first. He grabbed his phone and quickly fired away a few messages before misplaced pride could talk him out of it.

￼

He pretended to read a report about the reopening of the Balouve Mines but kept glancing at the phone, waiting for the screen to light up. Ignis had become quite proficient at using his phone accessibility software but it was still time-consuming. The reply came faster than he’d expected.

Noctis let out a chuckle at that. Gladiolus always knew how to take the drama out of any situation. He didn’t answer right away, waiting for the message currently being written to come through. What he read next made him wince, but it was to be expected.

And Ignis always knew what to say to make him feel like he’d done good. Noctis was a little bit ashamed of the warmth the words made bloom in his chest, feeling like a little boy hanging onto a simple praise. But this was a good feeling and no-one was there to judge him if he basked in it for a while.  
Predictably, his phone chime a second later with a request from Gladiolus to join the conversation. He accepted, and immediately regretted it.

His friends were ridiculous. And unfortunately for him, they were only getting started.

Noctis groaned and let his head fall onto the desk, making a mental note to actually order that bigger crown for days like this. He had a feeling there was going to be more in his future. But some higher power finally took pity on him.

His friends were ridiculous. And they were the best. Noctis set his phone down with an unconscious smile and gathered the mountain of paperwork he had to go through if he wanted to go camping the next day. He couldn’t wait.


End file.
